Stinky And A Published Poem
by SamandDianeOTP
Summary: Taking place right after "Everyone Imitates Art": She had a published poem. She was a poet. A stinky, drunken poet.


**Here's the one-shot I referred to. I tried to make it fit into "Things you didn't know" but it was a bit too long and instead it turned into a one-shot. But here it is.  
Always lovely to hear what you what you think! *or read***

She wouldn't seem to let go of her grip around his waist. He could feel her breath through his shirt like a summer breeze.  
He kept standing still, trying to come up with something that would make her go.

"I thought you were on your way out to get a drink," he said calmly.

"Hmm?" she mumbled, caught in her own thoughts.

"I was," she said tenderly just before he was about to repeat. She finally let go, smiled at him and turned to walk out.

It was getting late, and boy, was she drunk! She kept babbling without any context behind it. Her eyes were blank and her balance was poor. Carla laughed everytime she just glanced at her. She clearly found it amusing. So did Sam. At first. Then he came to realize, she wouldn't be able to get home by herself. She'd need someone to make sure she got home safely. And he already knew who that would be.  
She seemed to have a great time though. Diane. Norm appeared to be her best buddy at the moment. Her drinking buddy. Amused by her drunken act and having a great time with her, Norm would even pay for her drinks. Or at least put it on his bill. She'd be honored and start babbling about humanity. Carla was nearly laughing herself to death when Diane fell off the bar stool due to her swinging her arm around. Everyone had a great time with the drunken version of Diane. Everyone except Sam, who kept removing newly poured drinks from her. She'd make a fuss about it and then change the subject to their wedding. Just pour salt in the wound, he thought to himself.

"Big flowers! Bigger than flying unicorns! Oh dear, flying unicorns…Sam, can we please have some unicorns at our wedding?"

"Diane, I think you've had enough to drink for the night. I'm gonna take you home now."

"Pooh! I'm just having so much fun, Saaam. We can celebrate later, if you know what I-"

"No, we can't," he said and grabbed her arm which nearly led her to trip.

In the corner Carla was cracking up.

"I don't wanna go home, Saaam!" she sobbed.

"Too bad, sweetheart. 'Cause you' are."

"Sam, do you need any help?" Woody asked concerned.

"No, I can take of her."

They exited Cheers and walked out to a cold Boston breeze. Diane started singing some sort of long, self-invented song.

And she kept singing. The whole drive to her apartment, she kept repeating the same song over and over again. He didn't even try to figure out what she was singing about. It was too indistinct. When they arrived outside her apartment, she looked like she was about to throw up. Luckily, it was just a burb.

"Come on," he said and got out of the car.

She remained in the same position on the passenger seat. He walked around the front of the corvette, opened the passenger door and out she went, completely out of balance. Luckily he grabbed her before she fell. He had to put her arm around his shoulder or else she would trip. When they got inside, he realized, he had to carry her. There was no way she would be able to walk up all those stairs in her condition.

"I have to carry you, Diane."

"Fine with me!" she cheered.

He lifted her up in his arms and the second she was there he caught her full attention for the first time since she was sober.

"I like the lift part," she whispered into his ear.

It had a paralyzing effect on him to hear those words, and he was remembered of the episode, but he quickly swept the thought away and started climbing the stairs. After minutes climbing the stairs with a nearly passed out Diane in his arms, they reached her apartment, and he could put her down again. But just when he was about to, she mumbled something indistinct.

"Did you say something?" he asked.

"Don't let go of me," she whispered and tilted her head.

He sighed and looked at her. With her eyes trying to focus on him, he couldn't get himself to put her down.

"Where are your keys?" he asked.

"In my- they are in- In the—"

"In the what?"

"Left pocket, I think…."

He grabbed into her pocket and sure enough the keys were there. He unlocked the door and hurried to the coach so that he could put her down. She may be slender, but it felt like she weighed more than him when she was drunk.  
She looked around.

"Home, sweet home," she murmured and closed her eyes for a second.

"Do you want me to make you some coffee before I leave?"

"You're lea-f-ing?

"What? You didn't expect me to stay?"

"But I thought we were gonna have sum fun! You knoooow," she smirked.

"You've had plenty of fun tonight," he chuckled.

She rose from the couch, doing her best to keep balanced, and walked towards him.  
She remained calm and easy, while he became tense.  
She didn't say a word she just got closer and closer. She stopped only inches from him. Then she put her arms around his shoulders, her fingers in his hair and dragged herself even closer. Surely she must have heard his heart beat like crazy. He was so tempted to kiss her and just get it over with. He would have done it if she hadn't been drunk. But right now, she didn't know what she was doing. She may be alright with it to have no meaning at the moment, but he wouldn't hear the end of it tomorrow. He waited for her to make the next move, but she didn't, instead she stayed in the same position. And then she whispered it. It hit him like a rock falling from the sky.

"I love you."

She let go, waddled the few steps back to the couch and lay down. Within the minute she was asleep.  
But just before she dozed off, he could have sworn, he heard her mumble;

"Why don't you love me?"

Those few words wrecked his heart and made him want to yell it out loud.  
Instead he whispered it. Two simple words.

"I do."

_And that's what makes it all so difficult and complicated_, he thought.


End file.
